


The Drowning of Will Byers

by hoppnhorn



Series: summer of '85 [1]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Accidental Bonding, Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon-Typical Violence, Drowning, Lifeguard Billy Hargrove, Pre-Harringrove
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-03-01 15:20:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18802996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoppnhorn/pseuds/hoppnhorn
Summary: Billy never imagined working as a lifeguard would mean actually saving a life.





	The Drowning of Will Byers

**Author's Note:**

> might continue this series as the summer progresses

When he’d been hired to work at the pool, the peppy college girl who’d trained him had said something.  _When you’re on duty as lifeguard, every moment is critical._  

Billy’d rolled his eyes behind her back and immediately written the trite little bit of sage wisdom off as  _Rachelle’s_ lame attempt at sounding smarter than she actually was.

But the words echo in his mind one afternoon, boom really, as he’s walking back from a smoke break. He’d been gone literally two minutes.

And suddenly Will Byers is goddamn drowning. 

At first, it’d looked like the usual horseplay. Kids being loud and annoying in the middle of the pool wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. But then there’d been screaming. Like,  _actual_  screaming. So shrill and violent that the hair on his arms had stood up. 

Sinclair. 

He doesn’t actually know the kid, had steered clear for a while after their little run-in; since then, however, Billy’s been around their group enough to know all their voices and  _Sinclair_  is the one hitting the high notes. The one going ape shit.

Billy doesn’t even realize he’s running until he’s jumping off the pavement and splashing into the water. It’s not the deep end, thank god, and he doesn’t have to do much to get into the middle of the commotion. He’s strong, and a good swimmer, and he’s at center of the chaos in seconds.

All he needs to see is Will Byers limp in Henderson’s arms and Sinclair going after some kid with a sneer on his face. For what it’s worth, Lucas is getting his licks in – Billy sees at least one connect. And that’s all it takes for him to piece together what happened. 

But first he’s hauling Will out of the water and onto the side of the pool. 

His training comes to him like muscle memory, even though he’s only ever done CPR to a dummy. Some old rubber thing they’d probably pulled out of storage from the 50′s – it’d smelled so bad. Like mildew and rusty pipes. 

Will Byers is no rubber dummy. Will smells like sunscreen and chlorine; he’s warm, despite the fact that his mouth is an alarming pale shade and his skin is nearly white. White, even though he knows all the brats are sporting tans from the number of days they’ve been staying at the pool. He sees them nearly every day, yells at Maxine to wear sunscreen because she’s not  _lucky_  like him. 

She burns ridiculously fast. 

Will is always slathering on sunscreen – he smells like the stuff from head to toe. Billy tries not to think about how he can nearly taste the coppertone as he pushes air into the boy’s lungs. Tries not to think about how fast his own heart is beating in his chest.

 _Every moment is critical_. 

It feels like he gives him a hundred breaths, when it could only have been a few, and then Will coughs. 

He coughs and Billy’s body shudders with relief. When Will draws his first breath, he spits up a mouthful of water. It’s a little alarming, how much water he spews onto the concrete when Billy rolls him onto his side. It’s a lot, like he’d just kept swallowing and swallowing. 

“It’s okay.” Billy says, to Will or himself, he’s not sure. All he knows is his hands are shaking as he holds the boy on his side and the kids are still yelling in the water.

When he sees that Sinclair is still throwing hands, and  _losing_ , something inside of Billy cracks wide.

“HEY.” He bellows, and immediately the motion ebbs. Not just the kids, the whole pool is watching, silence falling like a thick fog. Looking back down at Will, Billy watches the kid take a few breaths, helps him upright. 

And then he jumps back in the water and goes for the sneering kid.

In retrospect, he probably shouldn’t have grabbed the little asshole by the hair, but it seems the easiest way to ensure he’s  _paying attention_. 

“What the fuck happened?” Billy asks. The kid opens his mouth but something about his expression makes Billy want to slap his face instead. So he does. Not too hard, nothing damaging, but enough to make a pretty  _smack_  and the kid jolts in his grasp. “HUH?” 

“Troy was hurting Mike and Will told him to stop.” Lucas pants from somewhere behind Billy, and the kid in his grasp clamps down on his jaw. 

Billy knows that look. He sees it at the kitchen table every morning.

“Told that faggot to mind his own business.” The kid spits. 

And Billy, well. 

He’s never been great with the  _f_  word. Or the people who think using hateful slang doesn’t make them  _trash_.

So. 

With a grip on the Troy’s shaggy head, Billy drags him out of the pool. Not nicely, either. He lets him scream, enjoys it, if he’s being perfectly honest. When he’s standing on hot cement with the bitching teenager, he lets him go.

And punches Troy right in the goddamn face.

He goes down like a stone, ass-first onto the ground in a way that probably will leave bruises and Billy fucking  _likes_  it, relishes the way blood gushes out of the kid’s nose and down his chin so quickly his chest is streaked in seconds. 

“You’re lucky I don’t call the police, you little shit.” Billy hisses at him. “Now, get the  _fuck out_  before I break something else.” 

His voice is  _probably_  too loud, parents are  _probably_  going to complain and he’ll  _probably_  get fired. But the general public isn’t moving to defend the kid. Not trying to intervene. 

“If you come back here, I’ll throw you out myself.” Billy adds as Troy scrambles towards his stuff to grab it and head towards the exit. 

He leaves a few drops of blood in his wake and Billy know’s he’ll have to scrub that up later.

But, for now, he doesn’t mind the sight. 

“Billy.” 

Heather’s voice is hesitant, like she’s not sure if he’s still handing out knuckle sandwiches. When he turns his head, sees her standing there with her whistle around her throat in the doorway to the ladies room, he snorts. 

“I went on a smoke break and you decided it was a good time to take a piss?” 

It’s  _mean_ , but she deserves it. Her cheeks flush red and he rolls his eyes. Turns his back on her. 

Heather’s hot, but she’s an idiot. All of the girls around Hawkins are morons, which only makes it so much easier to turn them down when they come sniffing. 

Will is surrounded by his friends and wrapped in someone’s towel when Billy walks back over. He’s breathing easy, talking softly, and Billy gives himself a mental pat on the back. 

The kid is alive because of him. He can’t help but feel a weird sense of irony. 

“Byers.” He calls, waving a hand. “Office with me.” 

Will nods and follows without a fuss, and Billy –  _thank god –_  doesn’t have to tell any of the crew to stay put. They all watch him with wide eyes, like he’s shocked them into a stupor. Even Maxine isn’t bitching at him to let her go with Will, she’s with Lucas, holding his hand. 

The pool office isn’t much more than a glorified closet, built into the same cement building that houses a half-assed “concession stand” and a couple of bathrooms. 

A dork named Trevor is checking pool passes and looks goddamn  _offended_  when Billy walks in, soaking wet, with Will Byers in tow. 

“The fuck happened to you?” Trevor declares, his mouth half-full chips, and Billy gives one of his classic  _get lost_  glares.

Thankfully, Trevor takes the hint. 

“Pop a squat.” He offers the one chair in the space to Will, who sits and ducks his head, his eyes cast down to the floor. Billy pulls a cigarette out of his dufflebag, lights it right there in the office, and sucks the smoke down with pleasure. 

It burns on the way down and it evens him out, all in the same breath. 

Peaking through his lashes, he gets a look at Will’s bouncing legs, his stone-faced expression, and exhales. 

“You smoke?” Billy offers. 

Will looks at him with eyes so big, Billy feels swallowed whole. 

“No.” He answers quietly. “My mom says it’s a bad habit.” 

“It is.” Billy pulls another drag from the cigarette until his cheeks hollow out. “But it’d help with the jitters.” 

“I’m okay.” Will presses his towel to his mouth, wipes his cheeks. But Billy still sees the trails from tears. 

“It’s the adrenaline.” He wonders if patting the kid on the back would help, deciding against it when he goes to do so and Will flinches. Easing back, he squats down, looks the kid in the eye instead. “The shaking and crying. Your body is processing what’s happened to you.” 

“I know what it is.” Will says, this time with a little bite to his tone. Clipped. 

Billy mulls that over, remembering the stories he’s heard about the Byers kid. Zombie boy. The kid they buried, but miraculous showed up alive. 

Or something like that. 

The kid’s probably been through worse, he figures. But that doesn’t mean anyone ever told him how to handle it.

“Punching people helps.” Billy offers with a shrug. Will looks at him, one brow raised. Billy winks. “Maybe not.” 

“I’ve never punched someone.” The kid says. 

And something in Billy’s stomach sinks. 

“You should probably learn.” He answers honestly. “Sometimes hurting people is the only way to keep them from hurting you.” 

“That’s a sad way to live.” Will says softly, his eyes fixed on Billy in a way that makes him stand, shift his weight around. 

He doesn’t like how he suddenly feels  _seen_. 

“To each their own.” He mutters around his cigarette, sucking it quick before he pulls it away, hisses out the smoke. “Meanwhile, stay out of fights you can’t win, got it?” 

Will nods, his eyes back to the floor. 

“And if you see that dickhead show up here, you come find me.” Billy adds. 

Will glances up at him. Then nods.

For a minute they sit in the quiet, Trevor’s annoying munching audible from outside the office door where he stands, waiting for the word he’s allowed back inside.

Billy enjoys the fact that he doesn’t even bother asking. 

“You feel okay?” He asks and Will takes a deep breath. Nods. “I can call your mom–”

“No!” Will shouts, and Billy startles, dropping ash on his bare foot. “Sorry. No, thanks. Please don’t tell my mom.” 

Billy doesn’t have to ask, he can see the fear all over the kid’s face. The fear he’ll be locked away for the rest of the summer.

Billy knows that fear. 

“Roger that.” He counters playfully, and the kid’s relief is immediate, like a wave across his face. “How about your brother?” 

There’s a moment of consideration but again Will shakes his head. 

“Fine, but if you stay, I don’t want you in the water.” 

“Can I sit on the edge?” Will counters and Billy grins, stubs his cigarette out on the desk.

“Sure. But take it easy.”

When they walk out, the gang is waiting around their towels and everyone welcomes Will back with big smiles and encouraging words. Max hugs him and for a moment she holds Billy’s stare. 

There’s something behind the look, something like gratitude. 

“Hey, you’re wet.” A familiar voice pipes up from behind him. Billy doesn’t have to look to know it’s Harrington, probably shirtless, with his fancy sunglasses and  artfully tossed hair on top of his head. He doesn’t give into temptation and turn around, but instead waits for Steve to walk up beside him and give him a good profile view. “You fall in or something?” 

The idiot has streaks of sunscreen on his cheeks.

“Hello, earth to Hargrove?” 

Never one to waste a good opportunity, Billy plants a hand on Steve’s shoulder, tries not to delight in the feel of all that skin on skin, and shoves Steve right into the pool. 

“Hey, Harrington.” Billy grins when Steve surfaces, his hair dripping and hanging in his face. “ _Plant your feet._ ”


End file.
